Rich and captivating. The dishiest new series Ive read all year.

Lauren Kate, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Fallen

CHAPTER SAMPLER

Power. Love. Scandal.

novel in the sexy, dangerous, and ridiculously romantic Flappers trilogy, set in 1920s Chicago and New York. And find out where their newfound freedom will take Gloria, Clara, and Lorraineand the boys who love and loathe them. Visit HE LAPPERS OOKS COM to Flapper Your Lookupload a photo, customize your look, and share with your friends!

Discover Ingenue, the second explosive

T F

Keep reading for a sneak peek . . .

PROLOGUE

Money. It was worth so much, but weighed so little. She placed the satchel on the table, opened it with a soft click, and ipped back the top. It was lled with dozens upon dozens of thin, green bills, rubber-banded in fat stacks. Hundreds. Then she picked up the list. Three names, all practically kids: Sebastian Grey, Carlito Macharelli, and Jerome Johnson. She reached for her gun. It was an automatic shed bought in downtown Chicago specically for this job. Once she was done, shed lose it somewhere. It was a .38, a good gun to kill with. She unwrapped it and worked the slide, made sure all the parts were clean and functioning. It smelled of oil and cordite and had a reassuring weight in her hand. Effortlessly she snapped one bullet after another into the chamber.

Jillian Larkin

There was a fashion among the younger people she knew for revolvers, but shed never been comfortable with the turn of the cylinder. And besides, the problem with letting young people into the business was that they made messes. But that was why she always had workno one liked to clean up messes. So they always had to hire a cleaner. She slid the gun into its holster and the list into her pocket. Now she was ready. Or almost: First she had to wash her hands. She hated being dirty.

PART ONE

FOOLS IN LOVE
I hope shell be a fool thats the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.

Daisy Buchanan, in F. Scott Fitzgeralds The Great Gatsby

VERA

Fashion kills. Crouching for long periods of time was never fun, but doing it in patent-leather T-strap heels was murder. Vera usually tried to wear more comfortable shoes when she was following someone, but thered been no time to change. Shed been working at the Green Mill when shed overheard Carlito Macharelli mention a meeting on the docks with Sebastian Grey. Shed immediately called a cab. Follow that car! shed ordered the driver. A normal cabbie would never put himself at her disposal for this sort of activitya black girl? Telling a cabdriver to follow a wealthy white man?but Wally was not a normal cabbie. He was that rarity: a black man with his own taxi and license. He was a family friend and happy to help her

Jillian Larkin

clear her brothers name. Jerome is like the son I wish Id never had, Wally liked to say. Most nights, he waited outside the Green Mill until she was done with her shift to take her home. Tonight they followed the taillights of Carlitos RollsRoyce all the way through downtown and to the docksa place Vera usually avoided. This area was dangerous. Vera already worked in a Mob-run speakeasy; she didnt need the added threat of being around when the gangsters unloaded the hooch. She asked Wally to let her out a block behind where Carlito parked the Rolls in the vacant lot. The hulking shadows of ships loomed to the east, but here the docks were still and silent. Vera edged close to the Rolls, dodging from shadow to shadow until at last she found a hiding place behind a stack of tied-up crates. Already, there was Bastian Greyshe could see his smug features as he lit a butt from his silver cigarette case. He ambled out on the pier and stood smoking, staring out at the water. She was sweltering on this warm summer night, thanks to her black, knee-length trench coat, but Bastian looked at ease in the heat, irritatingly handsome in a brown suit, his cheeks freshly shaven, his dark hair slicked back and parted. He was a looker, that much Vera couldnt deny. What do you want? Carlito called out as he walked up, the lights from the pier warehouse catching his gray pinstriped suit and black fedora.

INGENUE

Carlito was her boss and had once employed her brother, Jerome, as the piano player at the Green Mill. But then Carlito and Tony Pachelli, one of his goons, had tried to kill Jerome. And Gloria, Bastians high-society ance, had shot Tony dead. And then Gloria and Veras brother had had to ee Chicago to save their lives. And it was all Veras fault. Vera had been the one feeding Bastian information about Jerome and Gloria. Vera had been the one determined to break up their secret affair. Just because Vera hadnt known that Bastian was telling everything to Carlito didnt mean she was any less guilty. That was why Vera was here, crouched behind a stack of crates, hoping to learn something incriminating about Carlito and Bastiansomething she could use to barter for her brothers life. What do I want? Bastian ipped his cigarette in a bright arc across the lot. Youre the one who told me to meet you here. Carlito stepped backward. No, I didnt. Secret notes and midnight meetings. Bastian walked a few steps away. Im tired of your little games, Macharelli. Only a young man as despicable as Bastian Grey could work with mobsters and show a proud distaste for them at the same time. This isnt a game, Carlito said, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. And I didnt send you a note. That means someone else did.

Jillian Larkin

Dont be absurd, Bastian said, lighting another cigarette. Why would anyone go to the trouble of dragging us out here? Vera was leaning forward to hear better when she felt a hand crawl over her mouth. What are you playing at? a womans voice whispered. She wanted to struggle against the strangers hold, but she couldnt give herself away. She felt herself being turned around to face her attacker. Vera stared into the eyes of Maude Cortineau, Carlitos moll. When Maude had been a apper, shed barely paid attention to anyone outside her glamorous inner circle. Since shed gotten with Carlito, she stuck to his side and spoke only when she was spoken to. Im trying to eavesdrop, Vera whispered back. If Maude had been planning to bust her, she wouldve done it already. Shut up, Vera, Maude hissed. I was waiting in the car, and I saw you running around behind these crates like you didnt have a care in the world. If Carlito sees you, youre in deep trouble. Dont be an idiot. You dont want to end up like me. After dropping out of her bluenose prep school, Maude had become the queen of the Chicago apper scene. Sequins, feathers, gold lamshe wore it all. Her makeup was always awless and her headband always settled perfectly over her blond bob. But now her beaded red dress hung over her bony body

INGENUE

like a burlap sack. Deep shadows lurked underneath her kohl-rimmed eyes. Carlito had sucked the life out of her: The ame that Maude had once been famous for had been snuffed out. Maude! Where the hell are you? Carlito called from the other side of the crates. Just be smart and hide, Maude said, clacking away in her heels, back to Carlitos Rolls. Carlito was pacing by the car as Maude ambled up, smoking a cigarette. She was the perfect portrait of boredom. Carlito banged his st on the hood. I told you to stay in the car! Maude dropped the practically new cigarette. I wanted a ciggy, she replied in a soft, defeated voice. I know how you dont like anyone to smoke in your car, Daddy. Get in, he said. We gotta go, and fast. This is a setup. Youre being silly, Macharelli! Bastian shouted. No one is after us! But Carlito ignored him. He slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine, and sped off with a squeal of tires. Vera let herself relax against the crates, leaning out to check on Bastian. How could she have been so stupid as to ever trust him? Those eyes, she thought. When shed rst met Bastian, his green eyes had seemed sincereswoony, even. Arrogant, of course, but that was to be expected from a rich white boy like him. She hadnt realized the heartless steel his irises really concealed until shed accused him of sending a

Jillian Larkin

man to kill Jerome and hed just smiled and called her silly, stupid Vera. And in all honesty, that was exactly what she was. Vera opened her purse and felt the comforting, cool metal of Bastians pistol inside. Shed carried it often since shed found it at Glorias feet that night. Bastian certainly didnt know it was his own gun that had killed the gangster, that his own ance had pulled the trigger. Vera had never used a gun before, but if a dame like Gloria could use one, then so could she. Vera loved Jerome every bit as much as Gloria did, and would go just as far, if not further, to protect him. She snapped the purse shut and looked back toward the docks. Footsteps, approaching from the other side of the dockyard. The gure wore a long black overcoat and a hat with a wide brim. Vera watched the person walk down the pier. Sebastian Grey? Vera was shocked to hear the voice of a woman. Bastian turned from the water. I dont believe Ive had the pleasure Skip the formalities. Im looking for Macharelli. And the piano player, Jerome Johnson. Do I look like their keeper? Bastian breathed out a cloud of cigarette smoke, and then his face brightened. Youre too pretty a woman to be chasing after trash like Carlito. But if you must know, he took off a minute ago.

10

INGENUE

The woman made a swift movement, and Bastian raised his hands in surrender. Where to? she demanded. And wheres the piano player? No need for guns, Bastian said, slowly backing up. Carlito went home. And Johnson? No one knows where he disappeared to. He sent his kid sister a postcard from a post ofce box in New York, but thats been a dead end so far. Thank you, the woman said. Youve been most helpful. Then Vera heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Two. Instinctively, she cowered, knocking her heavy purse against the crates. The killer turned at the noise, her features hidden by shadow. All Vera could see was the silver pistol, pointed directly at her. The third gunshot in as many minutes rang out over Lake Michigan. The bullet slammed into a wooden crate so close to her head that Vera felt splinters hit her face. She didnt wait for another bullet. She just turned and ran. It wasnt far to the edge of the dockyard, and the wall of crates was between Vera and the shooter. But Vera was wearing heels, and shed never been able to run in heels. Until now. She waited for the crack of the gunshot and the bullet in

11

Jillian Larkin

her back as she crossed the lot, as she turned and ran the block to Wallys cab, as she banged on the window to wake him from his nap. Whats the rumpus? he said as she clambered into the backseat. Drive! she said. As fast as you can. Wally didnt need to be told twice. He turned the key, gunned the engine, and took off. When he dropped her at the club, it was already locked up for the night, but that didnt slow her down: She fumbled through her purse, found Jeromes old keys, and slipped the brass master into the lock. Whoever the killer was, she wouldnt miss the next time.

All that had been hours ago. Vera had made a pot of coffee. Shed sat down in a booth to try to gure out what to do next. And once shed been sure she was alone, shed cried. Shed cried for vile Bastian Grey, and for her brother, and for herself. She was only seventeen. She was supposed to be in school, not eeing killers. Her mother had been dead for years, and if her father found out about the mess shed gotten herself into, it would probably kill him, too. The only reason this place was a safe haven right now was that it was morning, much too early for anyonethe band,

12

INGENUE

the girls, the ownersto be there. That would change in a few hours. Vera needed to gather her things, gure out a plan, then scram. But she couldnt stop shaking. Maybe she could wait just a little longer. Just until her nerves settled. Then she stiffened in her seat: a jangle of keys outside the door. She needed to hide. But by the time shed slid out of the booth, the door was already open. What are you doing here? a mans voice exclaimed. Veras heart slowed. The voice wasnt the cool steel of a thugs, but warm, buttery, and familiar: Evan. The trumpet player in the band and an old friend of Jeromes. Despite the early hour, Evan was already dressed for the day in a soft white dress shirt and brown slacks. He looked the slightest bit amused, thanks to the way his lips naturally turned up at the corners. His face was smoothly shaved, his cheeks and jaw incredibly angular. He removed his brown derby hat as he icked on the light and walked into the room. What are you doing here? Vera asked, shutting her purse. What time is it, ve in the morning? Five-thirty, Evan replied. His eyes widened as he took in Veras appearance. She was still wearing her sleeveless gold dress, though it was a wrinkled mess. Evan picked a splinter of wood out of her hair. What happened to you, Vera? He pointed at the booth. Take a load off, girl. He went behind the bar and ran the tap.

13

Jillian Larkin

When he came back, he handed Vera a tall glass of water. She held it out in front of her: Her hand wasnt shaking. Its water, Evan said. Its for drinking. Vera smiled for the rst time that night and gulped down the entire thing. Thank you. She leaned back in the booth, feeling a bit more herself. Now, I think you were just about to tell me why youre here about ten hours earlier than usual. Youre welcome, Evan said. He sat down opposite her and ran a hand through his sleek dark hairVera could smell the Brilliantine. Truth is, Vera, Im taking off. You were just going to ditch the band? Aw, it aint much of a band anymore. Tommys been talking about joining up with a piano player at another club, and Bix never wants to practice. Without Jerome or a decent singer, this aint a good gig anymore. I just came by to get my trumpet. Vera couldnt help feeling hurt. Hed been planning to leave without saying goodbye? Evan reached out to pat her hand. I was going to tell you. I just wanted to sneak my horn out of here early, before anyone was around. Or at least it was supposed to be before anyone was around. He gave a wry grin. Now, what are you doing here? Before Vera knew what was happening, words started spilling out of her. She told him how she had betrayed Jerome and nearly cost him his life. How Bastian and Car

14

INGENUE

lito had been lured to the docks, and how the killer had shot Bastian dead. And she told him how shed nearly caught a bullet herself. And the woman asked about Jerome, she said. Bastian knew about Jeromes post ofce box in New York City. He knew Jerome had sent me a postcard. He sent you a postcard? Months ago. II carried it around like a dog with a bone. Someone must have gone through my purse when I was working. Someone must have told She swallowed heavily. And now the killer knows hes in New York. Evan reached over and tilted her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. That is not your fault. But dont you worryIll help you sort this out. She turned away from his hand. Im dealing with it all right on my own. Evan raised his eyebrows at her torn dress and dirty face. Yep, youre doing just ne. Despite herself, Vera laughed, and then she stood. Im gonna go clean myself up a bit. She washed the grime off her face in the ladies room. Now shed gone and involved Evan. He was the one person besides her father she really cared about in Chicago, and shed repaid his friendship by putting his life in danger, too. In the dressing room at the end of the hall, she stuffed her makeup kit, red hairbrush, and silver clutch into a large black shoulder bag she found on the oor. Then she looked at the clothes rack and winced.

15

Jillian Larkin

She couldnt very well run away with only a bag full of sparkly apper dresses. Still, she chose three of her favorites and packed them. And then, murmuring an apology, she swiped a few of a fellow cigarette girls simple day dresses, including a pale yellow number that she slipped over her head. It was a little tight, but not in a bad way. Finally, she slipped her feet into a pair of black ballet slippers. With her T-strap heels packed in the bag, she slung it over her shoulder and said goodbye to this place. She found Evan behind the bar. His beat-up trumpet case and a tan briefcase sat on the oor near the booth. Two glasses of water sat on the table. Evan carried over a pair of plates from the bar and set them down. Isnt that Bettys? he asked, glancing at her dress. Not anymore, Vera replied as she sat down. Fair enough, Evan said, taking a seat. I gured you might be hungry. Sorry its not the greatest breakfastI worked with what was available. Vera looked down. A ham and cheese sandwich. There was even a pickle next to it. Evan was kind as well as handsome. And unlike her, he remembered the importance of things like drinking water and eating regular meals. She grabbed the sandwich and devoured it. Evan cleared his throat. So, whats the plan now? Send a note to Jerome? Vera pushed the plate away. Theres no time for a note. Somebodys got to stop this woman. She opened her bag and pulled out Bastians gun. Im going to New York.

16

INGENUE

Evan dropped his sandwich. What the hell are you doing with a gun, Vera? She sighed. Long story, and Im not particularly in the mood to tell it. Then save it for the train ride to New York, Evan said. No way am I letting my best friends sister head into danger by herself. Im coming with you.

17

GLORIA

Extra! Extra! Harry Houdini, King o the Cuffs, will break out of a straitjacket right in Times Square! A dark-haired boy offered a paper to Gloria with a hopeful look in his big brown eyes. She smiled at the boy, at his dirty face. The fact that she couldnt spare him a penny or two made her heart ache. But there was a different ache Gloria had to deal with this Tuesday morningthe growling in her stomach. She wandered through the open-air market on First Avenue, pretending to shop. The large wooden pushcarts offered everything a fashionable New York City girl could desire: cloche hats in every shade from midnight blue to the palest rose, tiny silver compacts, endless tubes of lipstick. Soft silk stockings, along with the new articial silk ones that, while cheaper, were still way out of Glorias price range.

18

INGENUE

Gloria stopped and ran her ngers over a long string of white beads. She glanced down at her pale pink dress with its delicate lace embroidery. A narrow belt settled low on her hips, with a large cloth ower in the center. She couldnt help thinking how the necklace, wound twice around her neck, would really complete the outt. A woman with frizzy gray hair, standing behind the pushcart, cleared her throat. You better buy those beads if youre planning to paw em much longer, she snapped. The womans gaze was focused on the gaping hole in the palm of the white glove on Glorias left hand. Despite the rest of her rich girls outtthe pink scarf wrapped around her hat, the pointy-toed black heelsthat one hole gave Gloria away for what she truly was: a woman who couldnt afford to replace even a torn glove. A desperate woman. A woman who would steal. Gloria gave the pushcart woman a polite smile. I was just browsing. She would have to remember to keep her palms out of sight. Gloria weaved away through the crowd and nally reached her destinationthe food stalls. Her stomach rumbled loudly at the sight of the shiny red apples and creamy hunks of cheese on display. A rainbow of vegetables decorated the stallsgreen peppers, orange carrots, and yellow squash. Platters of sugar cookies were laid out, and hints of brown sugar and cinnamon wafted up from uffy apple pies. She followed closely behind a young

19

Jillian Larkin

couple sharing buttery popcorn. Just watching them eat was the most delicious thing Gloria had done in a while. She removed the oversized black purse hanging over her shoulder and slung it back on under her thin coat, then slid it behind her back. It was now or never. As long as she hid her hands and kept calm, this was going to be duck soup. She edged toward the bakers stall. Standing in front, looking over a platter of mufns, was a man in his early twenties, cute, wearing a plain blue shirt, knickerbockers, and a newsboy cap. He would do. Gloria let out a helpless cry. There he is! She pointed at the man with a trembling nger. The man who stole my purse! The man looked up from the mufns. Hey now, girlie, I aint done nothing! But a balding man in an apron had already grabbed the so-called thief by his collar. You think you can steal from a nice young lady outside my stall? All my money! Gloria wailed. A group of men closed in on either side. Well get your money back for you, miss, dont you worry, said a man with a dark mustache as he joined the baker. But I dont have her purse! the accused thief cried out. Gloria could no longer see him over the shoulders of the men around him. Gloria dove toward the bakers stall. She snatched the clos

20

INGENUE

est loaf of bread within reach and stuffed it inside her coat, then inched behind the pushcart. She backed away through the crowd, pointing, saying, Those men caught a pickpocket! until shed reached the mouth of a nearby alley. And then she turned tail and ran. Once she was in the alley, leaning against the brick wall, she caught her breath, composed herself, and strolled to the other end of the alley and out onto Second Avenue. A successful steal. She began the long walk home. These days, Gloria barely gave thievery a second thought. Going hungry had changed her. She and Jerome had burned through the last of her familys money sometime in April, and now it was June. Gloria had to rely on her witsand her looksso that she and Jerome wouldnt starve. She passed a gray, blocky high school and felt a brief pang for her old life at Laurelton Prep. Back then, a tardy slip from a teacher could seem like the end of the world. She should be sneaking notes in class, not stealing loaves of bread. What would her mother think if she knew her daughter was stealing bread? What was her mother doing now, anyway? They hadnt had any contact in months, not since Gloria had ed town. Gloria would have liked to be in touch, but she worried that her mother would track her down. Silence was saferat least until she had her future gured out. She turned onto 110th Street, and the already shabby brownstones became even shabbier. Paint peeled off the

21

Jillian Larkin

buildings in giant brown scabs, and many of the yards were just hardpan dirt. There was a church on the corner, but it looked as run-down and miserable as the homes around it. She glanced away from the church and noticed a yer tacked to a lamppost. Gloria swallowed hard. She was staring at herself. It was an old photograph. She was smiling shyly in a conservative frock, looking exactly like the perfect debutante and bride-to-be she had been a year before. The innocent, apple-cheeked girl in this photo never would have disobeyed her Prohibition-loving anc and sneaked out to the Green Mill. Or snagged the job as the Green Mills singer with Jerome, the joints black piano player. Or fallen in love with Jerome and killed a man to save him. It was a Missing Persons notice:
LOST GIRL Gloria Carmody, 18 SUSPECTED KIDNAPPING! Mother Worried Sick! If spotted, contact: Cooper Station Post Ofce Box 1281 New York, NY

Gloria reached up and ripped the yer off the lamppost. How long had it been up? How many others were there? Andmost importantlywho was hanging them?

22

INGENUE

It could have been her mother. Or Bastian could have been looking for her, considering they were supposed to be married by now. But the person most eager to nd her was Carlito Macharelli, and it certainly wasnt because he was worried sick about her. For a moment Gloria was back on the snowy pavement outside Jeromes apartment. Tonys gun was pointed at Jerome, and without even thinking, Gloria took Bastians pistol out of her purse and shot Tony dead. Gloria shuddered. She could still see Tonys blood seeping into the white snow. She folded up the yer and stuffed it into a pocket. At the next corner, she climbed a small ight of stairs to a tall brown apartment building. She held the door for a woman and her two young children and waved her hellos to the few mustachioed men sitting in the dilapidated lobby. At rst Glorias red hair had drawn stares in the predominantly Italian building, but the residents were used to her by now. She ducked into the stairwell. But instead of going up, she went down. In the dank basement, she opened the door to the boiler room. She avoided the large white pipesthey were hot, shed learned the hard wayand made her way to the far corner. There, from behind the water pump, she dug out a canvas bag. She dumped out its contents, removed her white gloves and cloche hat, and replaced them with long black gloves

23

Jillian Larkin

and an oversized hat that sloped down over her eyes and covered her features. She slipped her arms into a black wool coat that came down to her ankles. Then she placed her earlier accessories in the canvas bag, returned it to its usual hiding spot, tucked the bread under her coat, and exited through the back. The wool of the coat was itchy and awful against her skin as she walked out into the hot sun. A few sad patches of grass were dying in the dirt yard behind the building. Gloria walked to the left corner of the wooden fence, searching for the board with the dark brown scar at the bottom. She found it, pushed the loose board aside, and climbed through a gap just large enough for a person. For a made-skinny-by-hunger person, at least. On the other side was a yard much like the one shed left, only with even less grass. A few women with dark skin were sitting on chairs outside the back door, fanning themselves and shooting the breeze. The women glanced up as Gloria climbed the steps to the door but didnt say anything. Inside, a few black children careened down the staircase as she went up, but they barely paid her any attention. Gloria unlocked the apartment door and closed it behind her, then ung the coat, hat, and gloves away. This routine was becoming more and more irritating. And dangerous. The yards had been empty during winter, but now people were all over the place, and this disguise wasnt going to fool anyone. What sort of nut wore a long black coat in New York in the middle of June?

24

INGENUE

But this was the only way Gloria and Jerome could stay together. They were living on the lamthey certainly didnt need the kind of extra attention that an unmarried white woman and a black man living together were bound to receive. Jerome? she called softly, but it was obvious he wasnt home. Their place wasnt exactly large enough to hide in. There was a tiny kitchen with a lovely oak table and chairs that Gloria had spent a half hour haggling over at the ea market. There was a comfy overstuffed chair theyd found on the street. And there was Jeromes secondhand piano, an old upright theyd found at an estate sale. The wood was scratched all over, and Gloria was convinced the thing had never been completely in tune, but she knew that a life without some sort of piano would be like a life without air to Jerome. It was a far cry from her familys mansion on Astor Street. Back home in Chicago shed drunk out of crystal; here she and Jerome got excited when they found two mismatched but unchipped glasses they could afford. But so what? While she and Jerome didnt have much, at least everything they had was theirs. Theyd gotten lucky when Jerome found an abandoned Victrola on the street. With a little ne-tuning it worked swell, and now it sat in the corner of their bedroom along with their collection of recordsBessie Smith, a couple of Gershwins, the Jelly Roll Morton shed bought Jerome to replace the one hed left in Chicago.

25

Jillian Larkin

Gloria set the loaf of bread on the kitchen table, then dug down into the bottom of the laundry hamper and retrieved a heavy canvas sack, which she set beside the loaf. Newspapers were spread across the tabletop, all of them open to the classieds. Several ads were circled in ink. Gloria pushed the papers aside, opened the sack, and removed a pile of textbooks. European history, algebra, biologyall her old friends. She shed out her notebook as well as her math workbook and, tearing off the heel of the bread and gnawing on it, began working on a problem set. Shed been studying secretly for several months now. Not even Jerome knew. But it was the only thing that kept her sane. After weeks in New York and dozens of failed auditions, Gloria had started to worry. Maybe she wouldnt make it as a jazz singer. Then where would she be? No inheritance, no high school degree, no real qualications for a job. So she had written a letter to her old English teacher, asking for help. Miss Moss had always been Glorias favorite teacher, and Miss Moss had agreed to keep Glorias address a secret and to help her graduate from high school. Soon textbooks began arriving at the post ofce box Gloria and Jerome shared. Miss Moss instructed her long distance, through the mail, and as long as Gloria kept up with her lessons, she would be ready to take her exams at the end of the summer. Provided

26

INGENUE

she could sneak back to Chicago. Provided she wasnt arrested for murder. Provided Oh, it was too much to think about! She took another bite of bread and chewed thoughtfully. After she nished her homework and stashed her book bag, she put the rest of the bread on a plate. She should have stolen some cheese to go with it. Maybe tomorrow. Then Jerome walked through the door. In a tan suit and an Optimo Panama hat, he looked handsomer than ever. Gloria had always gured that over time, she would get used to seeing his beautifully sculpted face. But her passion only grew every day. Those long, elegant ngers felt even better clasped behind her back than they looked when he played the piano. And she always felt a utter in her stomach when his lips broke into that easy, enormous smile at the sight of her. Gloria went to him. Well, hi there. How was your day? Jerome took off his hat and settled it on her head. Better now. As he pulled her into a kiss, Gloria forgot all about her hunger and her old society life. She could hardly believe shed spent so much time engaged to Bastian, suffering through his chaste pecks, never realizing how glorious a kiss could truly feel. Jerome was the right man, the only man for her. He was kind, funny, smartBastians polar opposite. That Jerome happened to be black and she happened to be

27

Jillian Larkin

white seemed so inconsequential when they were alone in the little world of their apartment. They were just a boy and a girl in love. After a minute, Gloria pushed him away. As much fun as this is, theres something I need to show you. At the table, she pulled the yer from her coat pocket. His brow furrowed as he read it. Where did you get this? Found it stuck to a lamppost on Third Avenue. She sat and took off Jeromes hat. Bastian or Mother could maybe have had someone put them uptheyve got connections in New York. . . . And so does Carlito, Jerome nished. But its a big city, sweetheart. Theyre gonna have to hang a lot of yers if they want to nd you. Gloria caught sight of her reection in the mirror on the opposite wall. I doubt anyone would recognize me, anyway. Her hair was long and owing in the photograph on the yer. But that wasnt how she looked now. Her bob had grown out a little since the last trim, but she still looked the part of the daring apper, in a jaw-length shag of red hair that nearly disappeared under the right hats. And hunger had added its own styling: Her cheekbones seemed to jut out a bit more now; her jaw looked longer, sharper. Yeah, but those eyes of yours are unforgettable. Jerome kissed her on the forehead as his stomach growled. Now . . . have we got anything to go with this? He produced a

28

INGENUE

wedge of bright orange cheese from his coat. I might have stumbled into a cart on the way home. Gloria sliced the grainy loaf of bread while Jerome cut up the cheese, and asked, So, any promising leads today? He shook his head. Charlie at the Marble Room just hired a singer, and theyre going to bring back their old piano player. Jeromes buddy Lenny had promised Jerome and Gloria a gig at his piano bar in Greenwich Village, but by the time they showed up in New York, Lenny had changed his mind. He said that maybe having a white singer and a black piano player wasnt the greatest ideatoo risky. Hed been wide-eyed and terried. Someone had put the scare in him. Someone threaten you? Jerome had asked quietly. Lenny had mopped at his face with a bar towel. Shouldnt have advertised who my new piano player was. After that, Gloria and Jerome used aliases for their auditions. Jerome worked through the names of the guys in his old bandEasier for me to remember who Im supposed to be, he explainedwhile Gloria took names from novels shed read. But it didnt matter what they called themselves: No one was hiring. Every club owner they went to assured them that they were a little too different, a little too radical for the clubs usual audience. Jerome cleared his throat. I was thinking, Glo. Maybe we should try splitting up. I look for gigs uptown, you look

29

Jillian Larkin

downtown? He loosened his bow tie. Just until something better comes along, you know? Sure. We could try that. Gloria ddled with her napkin. We could also try talking to my father, she said quietly. Lowell Carmody had been living in New York since hed sent Glorias mother a telegram informing her that he was leaving her for a dancer named Amber. Gloria could have reached out to her father at any time, but the only things Lowell Carmody cared about were himself and his money, and a scandalous daughter would be bad for business. Gloria was worried that he would ship her right back to her mother in Chicago. And to Bastian. He certainly wouldnt approve of Jerome. But at this point Gloria was willing to risk it. Jerome looked down at his plate and chewed quietly. After everything he put me and my mother through, he owes me, dont you think? Yes, I do. And thats why I would never accept any help from him. Jerome patted her hand. I said Id take care of you, honey, and thats exactly what Ill do. End of story. Jerome got up and went into the bedroom. When he returned, Duke Ellingtons smooth piano wafted through the apartment. Jerome held out his hand. May I have this dance? Gloria grinned and stood up into the circle of his arms. And then they danced. It was easy to forget their worries when his hand was at the small of her back and he was spin

30

INGENUE

ning her slowly around the small apartment, their bodies pressed oh so close together. So close that nothing could ever separate them. He was as exquisite a dancer as he was a piano player, and the two of them moved with a liquid grace that had her smiling until her cheeks hurt. Pretty good dinner tonight, dont you think? Jerome asked. She looked up at him, and for a moment her mind spun with everything that was wrongmoney, hunger, constantly hiding from gangsters and the police. And none of those concerns was even the most obvious one. But as Jerome gazed at her, as if she were the only person in the world who mattered, the soft tones of the piano and the copper ecks in his eyes took over her thoughts once again. And so she simply leaned her cheek into his chest and let him sweep her away.

31

This is a work of ction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public gures, are products of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public gures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are ctional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the ctional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Text copyright 2011 by The Inkhouse

Jacket art copyright 2011 by Zhang Jingna Songs quoted: Downhearted Blues, lyrics and music by Lovie Austin and Alberta Hunter, 1922; St. Louis Blues, lyrics and music by W. C. Handy, 1914; Second Hand Rose, lyrics by Grant Clarke and music by James Hanley, 1921; Nobody Knows You When Youre Down and Out, lyrics and music by Jimmy Cox, 1922. All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc. theappersbooks.com www.randomhouse.com/teens Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request. ISBN: 978-0-385-74036-4 (trade) ISBN: 978-0-385-90836-8 (lib. bdg.) ISBN: 978-0-375-89911-9 (ebook) The text of this book is set in 12-point Granjon. Book design by Trish Parcell Watts Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 First Edition Random House Childrens Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

ATTENTION READER: THIS IS AN UNCORRECTED ADVANCE EXCERPT

Meet Jillian Larkin

Jillian Larkins fascination with appers and the 1920s

began during her childhood, which included frequent home screenings of the classic Julie Andrews/Carol Channing lm Thoroughly Modern Millie. She lives in New York.

Photo credit: 2010 Craig Hothem